The Plan
by PhoenixOwl0905
Summary: The countries get fed up of the romantic tension between Italy and Germany, so they decide to intervene. That's where everything really begins. S Sorry if it's fast paced, let me know through review! GerIta! (my otp) and a side pairing of Spamano, and maybe others? *Warning, this may become rated M.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! I highly recommend that you listen to the song ****_One_**** by U2 if you want to get a feel for the song they dance to. Or, just read the lyrics. I feel like they relate in many ways to the relationship they have in the story. That's where they whole idea came from anyway. Plus it's a great song. **

**And I re-wrote this chapter. I'm sorry, but I didn't really like the way the first one came out. But I personally like this one much better. I hope you enjoy it as well. And for those of you who were following before I changed the rating from T to M, I will have warnings on the chapters containing graphic sex scenes. And you wont miss anything if you decide to skip those chapters. ****Anyway, I hope you enjoy :)**

It had been a couple of months since Germany and Italy have spoken to each other. True, they had spoken at meetings, and discussed matters on a professional level, but they have never truly been the same since the Valentines Day incident.

Germany knew he liked Italy, a lot. And after that day he could no longer push his feelings aside any longer and embraced his crush on the adorable nation. Italy, however, was confused beyond all measure. He spent months examining his feelings towards Germany. He wasn't sure if he truly did like him, or if they were feelings brought on by Germany's feelings. He didn't want to date someone just because he felt like it was necessary. But he wasn't sure if he wanted to.

Needless to say, though, the rest of the nations were fed up with the two of them. They couldn't stand the tension between them.

"Seriously!" France complained to Prussia and Spain. "They like each other, it's obvious! And it's like they refuse to acknowledge their feelings and decide to ignore them. Do they really think that either of them are benefiting from this?"

"I know, it sucks." Prussia chimed in. "We need a way to get those two together. It's really gotten old, seeing West just wake up, work, work-out, and bake sweets and then do nothing else. He's heart broken, but he refuses to actually take action. Mein Gott!"

"Oui, that's annoying and everything, but our real problem is Italy. He still has a problem coming to terms with the fact that he likes Germany."

"Yeah, I think he's just confused."

"You think he doesn't know he's gay" Spain asked.

"No, I don't think it has anything to do with if he knows if he's gay."

"Who's gay?" America asked as he walked into the room. The three nations sighed, silently agreeing that they should have had this conversation in a more private area. When they didn't answer, America further persisted on the matter. "C'mon! Let me know, dude. Who is it? Who is it? Who is it?"

"Mi dios! It's Italy, alright!" The normal go lucky Spaniard answered, rather annoyed by America's persisting.

"Oh, duh. For Germany, right? Haven't they liked each other since, I dunno, forever. Are they going out yet?"

"No. Well, at least not yet. But we're working on it." France said standing up. "Now, is there a reason why you are here?"

"Yeah, I was wondering if you wanted to come over to my house in the Hamptons. All of you. It's to celebrate the awesome summer time! There'll be music, lights, dancing, and food!" The other three countries grimaced at the thought of having to stomach some of America's hamburgers. "Don't worry, we're having steaks." He rolled his eyes.

Suddenly, an idea popped into France's mind.

"America?"

"Yeah?"

"Who else will be attending this party?"

"Whoever else accepts my invite." He shrugged. "I invited everyone, all of that nations, that is."

"Perfect! I am a genius. Cupid should wish he were as brilliant as I when it comes to love affairs. Listen, I have a plan."

"Ve~ thank you for inviting us to your party America." Italy said as he, Romano, and Spain entered the beautiful house.

"It's my pleasure. I always loved coming to the Hamptons. The Hamptons are one of the many places that a great summertime homes."

"Thank you again."

"No problem, make yourself at home. The real party is out in the backyard. I had some floors placed down for dancing. But if you want something a bit quieter, just to chit chat, or something just chill in the kitchen and the living room."

"Grazie." Italy thanked, walking down the hall and into the kitchen and living room. There was an island in the kitchen that had many drinks upon it. There was punch, wine, beer, whiskey, rum, cocktails, juice, etc. Italy began to help himself to some of the punch when Spain pulled America to the other side of the room, away from Italy's hearing range.

"Is everything set up?"

"Yup, Monaco and Seychelles are going to ask Germany and Italy to dance, and if all goes as planned . . ."

"America! The punch is amazing!" Italy complimented as he ran over to him and Spain. "You must get me the recipe." He said, taking a heaping sip.

"Uh, sure. If you want it." They walked off and Spain sighed.

"I wonder if Germany is here." Once he walked through the glass door, he was greeted by an amazing, beautiful sight. String lights hung from rustic, wooden overhang. Round tables occupied the space around where the dance floor was. The stone floor was beautifully placed and colored, and ended with a small stone staircase leading to the beach. All around, countries were dancing. It was amazing.

Spain spotted Romano talking to some of the others countries, happy to see his loose side come out, but also admiring the way he looked when he smiled in the dim glow of the light. Romano noticed this, giving him a glare, but also blushing at the thought of Spain admiring him. He chuckled, and went back to what he was focused on.

He scanned the room when his eyes fell upon a slicked back blond head in the corner, talking to Prussia. He and Prussia looked each other in they eyes and nodded, quickly getting to work. Everyone was ready.

"Seychelles, psst." The girl brought her glass away from her lips once she realized who was calling her name, placing it on the stone wall. "Are you ready?"

"Yes." She whispered while giggling into her hand.

"Alright, be cool." He called into the house. "Hey Italy, could you come here for a moment?" Italy looked up from his pen and paper where he was writing down the recipe for the punch from earlier, and immediately put it down. The man rushed over.

"Ve~ what is it?"

"Seychelles was just wondering if you would dance with her."

"Of course I will!" He held out his hand for her to take. "Come on! It'll be fun."

"Thank you," She motioned to Italy, "and thank you, Spain." With a hidden wink, they were on the dance floor. Spain looked over to see that Monaco and Germany were also approaching the dance floor, beginning to sway with the music.

Spain opened the door, asking America is everything was set up.

"Yo, dude, everything is ready." At that moment, France and Prussia approached them.

"Alright, I'll knock on the door, that's your cue. Got it?" France asked.

"Got it."

"Good." Spain replied. When he looked back at the scene, his attention was brought to Romano, the only one who had no idea about the plan. But most of his attention was focused on one thing. "Excuse me." He announced, adjusting his collar and making his way over toward Romano confidently.

When he was next to the Italian he cleared his throat, gaining his attention. Romano turned and glared at him with a smirk.

"What the hell do you want?" But before he could say anything else, or even argue, Spain had grabbed him by the arm and into his own and began to dance with him. Deeply, Spain slowly said,

"Romano, you look amazing." Romano was too flattered and embarrassed to do anything other than blush intensely and hold back his profanities.

Across the room, Seychelles and Monaco were secretly making eye contact throughout the entire dance. They continued to spin with their partners as the song that was currently playing was coming to an end. They bit their lips as they lured their victims into their trap.

Seychelles looked at Italy.

"So, Italy, how are things between you and Germany?" She asked, feeling Italy tense up.

"They're . . . okay. We don't really talk anymore."

"Really!" She said shocked. "You two were such good friends, what happened?" Italy spun her.

"Well, things got complicated."

"Did you start to get feelings for one another?" Italy blushed intensely.

"What! No! Germany is a man, and so am I! It wouldn't work! I like women." Seychelles smiled.

"A little birdy told me otherwise."

"No, I like women."

"But you used to like a boy. Isn't that true." Italy looked down, slightly embarrassed.

" . . .yes. But I was young and foolish."

"Italy, listen, there is nothing wrong with liking a boy. Nothing. And it's okay if you like Germany. Don't be afraid of your feelings, because you do like Germany, don't you?" Italy was silent. He could feel his stomach jump in his body as he finally admitted,

"Si. I believe I do. But it's in the past, I don't think that Germany even likes me anymore. Our past is too messed up. I ruined it."

"I wouldn't be so sure." She smirked.

"Che?" The music stopped abruptly. Sweet Home Alabama, one of America's old favorites, was soon replaced with One by U2. And in that moment, Seychelles and Monaco twisted their partners into each others arms. They spun, letting go so that Germany and Italy crashed into each other.

They both stood there shocked, mouths agape as they looked at their previous dance partners, who were waltzing away with each other.

Italy shook slightly. So that's why she was asking all of those questions! Italy thought. He looked around to see that the rest of the dancers had formed a circle around the two, trapping them.

"I think we've been set up." Germany said meekly. In fact, it was the softest and most embarrassed Italy ever heard Germany.

"I . . . I . . ." Italy sputtered, trying to form a sentence.

"It's okay. I'll just go." He said, breaking away from Italy and trying to push past the very persistent dancers. Italy's eyes widened.

"Wait!" Italy called. Germany stopped and looked over at the small man. "Dance with me?" Germany felt himself blush, biting his bottom lip.

"Ja, if you would like."

"I would like very much." He answered, holding onto one arm with one hand while his head tilted down. Germany walked over to him, more nervous than he'd been about anything and took Italy's hands in his own. He pulled Italy in close to his body, hearing a small gasp from him, and started to dance.

It didn't take long before the dancing, the song, and Germany holding him before Feliciano started crying. Germany became instantly worried and slightly shook the auburn haired man.

"Italy? Italy what's wrong?" Italy shook his head.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Germany."

"What could you possibly be sorry for?" He asked, wiping away the tears on his face. Italy said nothing, he only brought his lips to Germany's.

Out of shock, the blonde pushed him away. His brain tried to comprehend what just happened. He was excited at the same time, though. He could feel his heart beating a million miles a minute.

"I'm sorry." Italy began again. "I should have known that you don't like me anymore. You've probably moved on. I'm sorry, I'll just-" But before he could finish he could feel himself being pulled into another kiss. This time it lingered. Their arms wrapped around each other.

Everyone else smiled at them, but they were too focused on themselves to even notice.

* * *

**Please review if you can. They are helpful most of the time! **

**And I would like to apologize to my followers for ****_Carnevale_****. I am working on it, but am trying to get some kinks out of it. I know I don't upload often with that story, but hopefully that will end come the summer. **


	2. Chapter 2

"Ve, Germany! I can't believe it!" Though normally stern, Germany only smiled as he brought Italy's hand to his lips, kissing it gently.

"Nor I, it feels too great to be true. But, Italy, does this mean that we're-"

"Boyfriends?" Germany thought the term seemed a little childish, but supposed it was the only real way to sum up their relationship.

"If you would like." Germany gulped. Italy reached up and kissed the tall man again briefly, then replied,

"I would like that very much. I love you Germany. I'm sorry it took me so long. I should have accepted your offer from long ago."

"Nein." Germany cut him off. "It was foolish of me to ask you to marry me on a ridiculous notion I got that you had romantic feelings for me. We should take this relationship slow, do it right."

"Si! That sounds good to me!."

"Then it's settled." Germany smiled, then proceeded to pull the Italian close to him once more, continuing to dance.

From the other side of the room, Spain could just make out what was happening between Italy and Germany. From what he could tell, they had kissed, and they continued to dance, so that was a good sign. When he got the feeling that the plan had worked settled in his stomach, he focused back on Romano. The Italians lip snarled and he spat,

"Are you going to tell me what the hell is happening, or are you just going to lead me around like an idiot?"

"Promise me you won't get mad if I tell you what is going on?"

"There is no way I will ever promise something like that. You son of a bitch! You tell me what is going on right now, or I'll-" Then he was silent. Spain was slightly startled, but trailed his own eyes to where Romano's had settled. They were looking at Germany and Italy still dancing contently in each others arms. At first, Romano didn't seem that angry, he didn't even seem phased by it. But those who knew him well enough, such as Spain, knew otherwise. "Y-you . . . that's what this is about. The song, everyone getting up and dancing all of a sudden, it was part of this. _You_ were part of this, weren't you?" He spoke calmly and collectively.

"Romano, calm down."

"Don't you fucking tell me to calm down! What the fuck is happening?! Did you set my little brother up with that potato sucking, son of a whore?!" Spain seemed to straighten up at this, becoming more serious, in a way, and looking down at Romano.

"And if I did? What would be the problem with that?"

"Problem? What would be the problem? You are absolutely un- fucking- believable, you know that?"

"Romano, look at him!" Spain quietly whispered to Romano. "Italy is happy. He's the happiest he's been in a long time, and you know that."

"That's because the blond bastard -"

"Romano, he's happy. He's with someone he loves." Romano seemed to be disgusted at the word _love_. And he wanted nothing more than to yell right back at the man. To tell him off and then stomp away. But all he could do was shake his head and look onward into the darkness of the beach. "You and I have the chance to be happy like that too, you know." Romano immediately focused his attention back to Spain, who, in turn, was also looking out of the balcony, went to look at Romano. The mans face was glowing a dim red as he stuttered,

"C-che?"

"C'mon Lovi. You know how I feel about you."

"I have no idea-"

"And I know how you feel about me-"

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about!"

"I don't know what keeps you from me, Romano. We both share feelings for one another. Why aren't we happy like Germany and Italy over there?"

"Because there's nothing between us, you hear me? You're lucky I can tolerate you more than I can others, you know?" Romano declared, beginning to back away as best he can. But the Spaniard just followed, hand still pressed against his back and hand held in his.

"And I wonder why that is."

"W-wha. . .?"

"I wonder why I'm so special. Why you block out everyone except for me. Why you always come to visit me, or ask me to come over. Why you're always so nice to me, even when we were younger. Why, why is that Romano?"

"Well, because . . ."

"Don't deny your feelings for me, Romano. Don't hide anything, because I feel the same way about you." Right as those words flew out of his mouth, he brought his lips to the southern Italians. It felt great, amazing even. Much better than he'd imagine it'd feel like. And then he was forcefully pried away. Romano shoved Spain away from himself, breathing heavily in anger. He took his hand and slapped the green-eyed man across his face, earning the attention of everyone within a good fifteen foot radius.

"Don't you ever do that again! Ever." Just as Romano went to walk off, his attention was brought back to Germany and Italy. Their innocent dance now involved some sweet kissing from the both of them. Angered, Romano marched over and shoved the Germany almost off of his brother.

"Romano what's-" Italy began, but was cut of by Romano's threats.

"Don't you ever lay one of your filthy German fingers on my brother again, you got that?!"

"Romano, please, calm down! Germany and I were just-"

"Oh, believe me, I saw what you two were _just_ doing. The whole fucking world saw! Grab your things! We're going home! Now!"

"Now, but we just got here." Italy protested. "Besides, I want to head home with Germany."

"Like hell I'm going to let you leave with him, only to be fondled up once you two are alone!"

"If I may interrupt." Germany stepped in, but was silenced by Romano.

"You stay out of this! You're the reason this all happened, you asshole!" He turned back to Italy. "We're going home!"

"No! I want to stay with Germany and you can't stop me!"

"Fine! See if I care if you get raped by a giant _braktenvein-wurst_! I'm leaving!"

"But Romano,"

"Ciao, brother!" And with that, Romano left the room. Some of the guests were staring at where he had disappeared into the house, but most went back to their conversations.

Germany and Italy just stared at where Romano had left until Germany decided to speak up. He looked over at Italy, lifting an eyebrow and asked,

"I thought we were taking it slow." Italy looked right back up at Germany.

"We are, I swear. But I've been to your house a lot of times before, what's different about this time? We won't do anything too bad, I promise. I just want to cuddle and fall asleep later, that's all. We've done it many times before, what's so different about this time?" Germany smiled and kissed Italy on the forehead.

"Nothing really, I suppose. How about we go sit down, ja?"

"Si!" Italy agreed as they walked over to a near by table.

Everyone went back to enjoying the party. All except Spain, who had crept out and down the stairs that led to the beach after Romano had stormed out.

Spain could have felt heart broken. He could have felt beat down. But he didn't. As he plopped down on the sand right in front where the waves crashed, all he did was smile because he was sure, more sure about it than stars in the sky, that Romano had let him kiss him for just a moment.

**Hey guys! After a recommendation, I've decided to continue the story! Yay? Anyway, if you want me to do any other pairing just give me a suggestion and let me know through a review. I will let you know if I feel comfortable with the pairing, and please respect my decision if I decline. Just two warning, this might turn into a rated M story. If you do not like that kind of stuff, I will post whether a chapter had explicit sex scenes (which I will only write about Germany and Italy). I may do Romano and Spain, but don't get too hopeful. And the second warning is that I will probably go back and "fix" chapter one. It just felt kind of rushed and that the focus wasn't too good on Germany and Italy. It will be fixed. Anyway, thank you for putting up with me, and my followers of Carnevale, I love you and (I know you're getting tired of hearing this but) I will be posting another chapter soon! Thank you! **


	3. Chapter 3

*a couple of days later*

Italy and Germany laid comfortably and contently on the German's bed. They faced each other, lips connected and working. The rest of their bodies also moved. Italy's hands roamed up and down the delicious abs on Germany's body. Germany's hands were also occupied, running up and down Italy's back, always stopping to rub circles around his waist.

Getting carried away, Italy decided to use the hand that was around the back of Germany's neck and pressing his lips harder onto his. He also took his hand that was running up and down his abdomen and brought it underneath the blue button up shirt that he had been wearing. Much to the needy Italian's disliking, the German pushed his hands away and pulled down his shirt.

However, Italy was a little more persistent on these sort of matters. He pulled the shirt back up, moving his hand up and down the hard abs. He let out a small, "Mmmm" to let him know he was serious. Nonetheless, Germany continued to pull his shirt back down whenever Italy pulled it back up. This time he added through the tangled lips,

"Feliciano . . . stop . . ." Not listening, the brunette decided to take it a step further. This time, he pulled up Ludwig's shirt and began to undo his belt. Ludwig fidgeted. "I . . . said . . ." he unzipped his pants, beginning to move them down. "I said _stop_!" He hastily pushed the lusty Italian away from him and pulled up his pants, tucking in his shirt. Feliciano, however, was too frustrated and leapt up from the bed right away.

"What? What is it?" Germany questioned.

"Why do you keep pushing me away? I thought we were being intimate." Italy whined.

"We were, we were being too intimate. I want to take this relationship slow, to-"

"_Do it right_ I know, I know! Can't we just," He said moving closer, "indulge?"

"Absolutely not. Italy, we will be at that stage of our relationship soon." He said, moving over and grabbing Italy's gentle hands in his own and kissing his knuckles. "But, before that happens, I want to make sure that you're comfortable with this relationship. You weren't exactly ecstatic to be in this relationship. It took a lot of persuasion from a lot of people, and a cheesy love song. I want to make sure it's what _you_ want."

"I want you, Ludwig." Feliciano practically begged. And as much as Ludwig wanted to, he only sighed and brought the hands away from his lips.

"Soon. Just be patient. Okay?" Feliciano sighed disappointedly.

"Okay."

"Good. Now, I'm going to get some work done. Why don't you work on dinner? Would you like some pasta?" Italy's eyes practically lit up at the name.

"Si! Let's have pasta!"

"Alright, I'll be in my office."

"Alright." He agreed, placing his lips on the Germans before he left to finish his work. Once he was out of the room, Feliciano only flopped back onto the bed. He let out a sigh of disappointment.

_Darn, I really thought that would work. Oh well, I'll try next time. Perhaps I could ask big brother France before next time. He seems to know a lot about these kind of things. Yeah, I'll call him tomorrow and ask him. _Feliciano looked over at the clock. _Hmmm . . . it's still a bit early to get started on dinner. _He flipped through his phone, thinking of things to do. He went through his contacts, thinking of someone to call or text when he came across Romano's name. _I should call, he was really angry with me last time we talked. But he'll yell at me._

Italy thought about it for a moment but decided to call Romano anyway.

The phone rang a couple of times before he got Romano's voice on the other end.

"FELICIANO! What the fuck?! Four days and no call! Did you actually go home with that bastard?! I can't believe out of all of the gorgeous women in the world, you go for the potato bastard! What the hell is wrong with you?! When are you coming home?!" Italy flinched at the loud angry voice emiting from the other end.

"Romano, don't be upset. I just went home with Germany, is all-"

"Oh God!" Romano let out in disgust. "You two slept together?! I'll fucking kill him for laying his perverted fingers on my baby brother!"

"Romano, calm down. We didn't have sex." He could hear Romano let out a sigh of relief. "Well, at least not yet."

"Scussi? What the fuck did you just say? Are you trying to sleep with him?"

"Yes, I really want to. But he keeps pushing me away."

"Good! I don't have to worry."

"But Romano," Italy sat up, crossing his legs, "I want to make love-" Romano scoffed as Feliciano continued, "make love to Germany but he says he want to take the relationship slow. I think that we've been friends for a really long time, and we love each other. What do I do?" Romano smirked on the other end.

"Perhaps he just doesn't _want_ to have sex with you. Did you ever think about that?" Feliciano was silent for a moment.

" . . . no."

"Perhaps he's still really into women and can't get used to the fact that you're a guy." Italy shook his head, not believing a word.

"No, I don't think that's it. He just wants to take things slowly, he's old fashioned like that." Feliciano smiled as he twirled the iron cross in his fingers.

"Pfft, whatever. I'm going to hang up."

"Wait, Romano?"

"What is it?" Romano breathed, rather annoyed.

"Can I ask you what happened to Spain? After you left he was kind of moody. He looked really sad, like an abandoned puppy and left early. He said it was nothing but I don't know."

"Why would I know anything about that bastard?" Despite the harsh language, the tone was calm. In fact, it was far too calm, especially for Romano.

"Well," Italy gulped, "you're closer to him than anyone-"

"Yeah, well, things change." Italy lifted an eyebrow.

"Romano, are you and Spain okay?"

"I have to go, I'm not talking about this."

"But, Romano."

"Ciao!" And like that hung up. Feliciano looked at his phone to see that words _CALL ENDED_ flashing in red.

_That was strange for him to hang up like that. Even for Romano!_ Italy got up, stretching and walking to the kitchen when an idea popped in his head. _Spain and France are friends, maybe when I go over tomorrow Spain will be there and I can ask him myself. Yup, that's the plan. _

Feliciano smiled and began to make dinner.


	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter will be Spamano, but I promise that more GerIta is coming up! Enjoy!**

Spain stood outside of Romano's house, knocking rapidly on the door. It was late and the street lamps lit the darkened streets of Italy. A light appeared from one of the windows in the house, a sign that he'd woken Romano.

Romano finally flung the door open wearing nothing but his pajamas, aka a pair of boxers. He shouted angrily,

"What the hell is wrong with you?! Don't you know what time it is?! People are trying to sleep-" But Spain just pushed past the heated italian, entering his house. "Where do you get the balls to just-"

"Romano." The spaniard said harshly. It was then Romano noticed that Spain wasn't being his normal cheerful self. He looked solemn, almost frustrated. It worried Romano, especially when Spain looked up at him with a deep breath. "We need to talk." Romano knew in an instant, but played it off.

"About what?" He muttered, quickly making his way into the kitchen.

"Don't ignore me, Romano. We know what we need to talk about." He said a bit louder, following him.

"I have no idea what you mean. Do you want coffee or not?" He replied coldly, back facing him, front to the counter where he was hastily making the coffee."

"Romano."

"Drop it Spain."

"No! I will not! You may be able to hide from your feelings but I can't!" Romao dropped everything and spun around.

"Hide? Pfft. What's to hide?"

"There! That! Exactly! Why do you deny your feelings for me? I know you love me, just like I love you. And don't deny it because I _know_ you let me kiss you that night at the party!" He accused, pointing a finger at him. Romano could feel the burning in his cheeks.

"Th-that was just your imagination playing tricks on you. We're just friends, and that's all we'll ever be! We're barely even that!"

"Than why do you treat me differently? Why do you love to be around me and spend time with me? Why do you ask me to come over? Why am I over here half of the time, and you're with me over in Spain the other half? Why, Romano? Why?" There was a silence between them. For a moment Spain thought he had him. He knew he couldn't find an answer, even if he tried.

Romano, however, was not willing to give up so fast. He merely scoffed and went back to making coffee. Spain furrowed his eyebrows, mouth opened slight;y in offense. _He just scoffed? That's it?!_ He could feel the rage boiling inside of him. He want to say something but he couldn't find words. Instead he turned around, running his fingers through his hair angrily. He let out loud sigh through his teeth until he leaned on the arched door frame, dragging his hand down his face.

"Romano . . . I'm really tired of this." He practically whispered.

"Of what?" They both turned, facing one another.

"Lovino, I love you but I can't stand the way you treat me. You push me aside and you ignore my affections. And you push away your own feelings, for what? I don't know. But I will not stand here and just let the tension between us simmer. Do you know what happens when you let something simmer for too long? It burns. And I believe that's finally happened."

"So what? What are you going to do? What could you possibly do?"

"I'll tell you what I'm going to do." Spain marched over to the italian, hurriedly but still demanding and intimidating until he was but inches away from Romano's face. He look down at him, eyes half lidded, mouth slightly parted, looking down upon Lovino.

Romano's heart was racing. He could feel the blood burn in his cheeks and boil in every other part of his body. He was trembling, shaking against Antonio. In his absent mind he thought that the spaniard was going to kiss him. He wanted the spaniard to kiss him. Though brief, he remembered the last one being amazing, and he wanted nothing more than for him to kiss him one last time.

Antonio finally spoke in a hushed, slow voice,

"If you call me, I won't pick up. When you text me, I won't reply. And when you want me to come over I won't. Don't expect me to come back to you, because I won't. You say we're nothing? Fine. I won't _bother _you anymore. Adiós, Lovino." He stepped back slowly, walking out of the kitchen and out of the house.

Romano was stunned, breathless even. For a moment he felt like he couldn't even move, until he finally found the energy to run over to the window in the dining room. He saw him walking down the road and call after him, "You think I care? Good riddance you stupid tomato bastard!" But they both knew he didn't mean it.

Tears swelled in Spain's eyes as he walked down the road and into a life without Romano.


	5. Chapter 5

Italy made his way over to France's house the following afternoon. Germany has stepped out and Italy took the opportunity to pay a visit. He needed guidance. The last relationship he was with Holy Rome and that didn't exactly end well. Not to mention he was young and was clueless on how to get another man to have sex with him.

He figured, though, that France was the best person to ask about these problems. France was, after all, notorious for being a great lover. Even Italy knew that.

When he arrived at the house he eagerly gave the white, double doors with the brass knocker. He took a step back and waited. A couple of seconds passed and nobody answered. He decided to know again, louder. Nothing. Italy grabbed both knockers and began to furiously and repeatedly knock until he got some sort of response.

France finally swung open the door, eyes red and furious, face contorted. His hair was tousled and messy, and it looked as though he hadn't trimmed his beard that morning, nor had he changed his clothes.

"What in the world do you want?! Can't you see I'm-" France cut off his rant the minute he recognized who was standing at his door. Italy was shocked and rather teary eyed from France's outburst. "Oh! Italy, I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was you. What is it that you want?"

"I-I . . . um, you told me I could come over today." The small man muttered. France had an expression that read as confused and frustrated, trying to remember such conversation. Then his eyes grew wider and he slapped his face with his hand.

"Right! I did say that." He said slowly. Moving aside, he gestured for Italy to enter, which he did, reluctantly.

"Are you sure about this? I could come back another day."

"No, no." France waved. "It's fine. But I should warn you, Spain is here."

"So? What's wrong with that?"

"Did you not hear what happened between him and Romano?" Itay gaped up at the frenchman.

"No!"

"Shh." He put an arm around the italian and leaned towards his ear, whispering while leading him towards the living room, "Your brother and Spain had a fight last night and they're basically not speaking. Spain told him that he was tired of Romano not sharing their feelings, so he's giving him the silent treatment. He's tossed Romano out of his life."

"How's Romano taking that?"

"I'm not too sure."

"What about Spain."

"See for yourself." They arrived at the living room at the end of the hall. To say it was messy would be an understatement. There were empty bottles of alcohol scattered across the floor and tables. Pillows were on the floor around the couch rather than on it, save for the one Prussia was using under his own head whilst he slept. The pictures were either out of place, faced down, or all of the above. All of the curtains were drawn closed, except for the one by the window Spain was looking out of.

He was sitting in an armchair which he dragged from it's area near the coffee table to the window. He was wrapped in a blanket, frown plastered on his face, and a stubble growing on his chin. He looked absolutely miserable.

"Aw, poor Spain." Italy whispered.

"Let's go in the kitchen to talk, just give me a moment." France walked over to the sleeping albino, giving him a sharp smack to the head. Prussia's arms flailed up to cover his head, his knees drawn up as well. "Wake up you idiot!" France said in a harsh whisper.

"What?!" He said in an equal tone.

"I told you to watch out for him while I go get the door! Can you do anything?"

"Sorry, I'm fucking tired. I've been up all night!"

"So have I! Just keep an eye on him while I talk to Italy."

"Oh, is Italy here?" Prussia got up immediately, rushing over to Italy and bringing him into a tight hug. "How is my new brother-in-law doing?" Italy giggled.

"Prussia, Germany and I aren't married!"

"Not yet, but it's going to happen. I know it. You two are just too good together. Besides, I see you as a little brother anyway."

"Thank you, I feel the same way. But I _really_ wanted to talk to France."

"About what?"

"Yeah, what do you need to talk to me about, anyway?" France chimed in, leading Italy to the kitchen. Prussia was following close behind. "What are you doing? I told you to stay with Spain."

"Actually, I was kind of wondering if Prussia could help out with this too. It's is about Germany."

"Come on, he'll be fine. Let's go." They all made their way into the kitchen. Prussia and Italy sat down at the off-white table nestled up against the wall, under a picture of a random vineyard in the French countryside.

"Can I get anyone anything? Water, tea?" They both shook their heads, allowing France to take a seat. "So, what's wrong with Germany?" Prussia inquired.

"Germany's fine . . . sort of. It's just that I really, really like Germany. Actually, scratch that, I love Germany. And I try to get him to . . . make love to me, but each time I try get intimate with him he shoves me away. What am I doing wrong?" France sighed, resting his hand on Italy's shoulder.

"Italy, you two _have_ only been dating for a couple of days. Don't you think you two should be taking it slower than that?" Italy shoved that seat from under his feet and paced around.

"Germany said the same thing, but we've been in a relationship for decades now. We've just changed to being in a romantic relationship a couple of days ago. So why should we wait? We know each other, we love each other. Why wait?"

"Italy," France began, getting up too, "I understand that you're excited, but you have to be calm and listen to what Germany wants too. If he wants to take things slowly, don't you think that you should respect that? Just be patient and be sure it's what you want."

"Germany thinks that I won't enjoy sex with a man, but it's not just a man. It's Germany."

"Italy, I think you should wait. But I also think you should test the waters. Just wait a minute, I'll be right back." France disappeared upstairs for a moment, quickly returning with a small box. "Here. Just test it out and then make a final decision, okay?" Italy looked sad, knowing he had no choice but to accept defeat.

"Alright." The young man said, snatching the box out of France's hands. "I'll do it your way."

"Good, we should probably go check on Spain. Prussia?" The man was asleep. "Idiot." They walked back over to the living room where Spain remained unmoved. Timidly, Italy walked over, putting his hand on the spanish mans shoulder. He didn't move. The italian moved over, kneeling beside Spain and grabbing his hand.

Spain moved. He peered at Italy in bewilderment.

"Romano?" Italy smiled slightly.

"No, Spain, it's me. It's Italy." Spain scrunched his features, squinting his eyes and looking closer at Italy.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I'm still drunk." The dirty man explained, running his hand over his face, not moving them over his eyes once they laid to rest there.

"It's okay. I heard what happened and I'm sorry." His thumb ran over Spain's knuckles affectionately. "If it's any consolation, Romano is probably not doing too well either." Spain shrugged his shoulders

"I didn't do this to make him feel bad. I was just tired of feeling like I was being dragged around." Italy smiled, squeezing his hand.

"Let me tell you something about Romano. You probably know it, but I'm still going to say it. Romano gets jealous easily."

"Yeah I knew that. It was obvious when you and Germany started to hang out."

"Really?"

"Yes, he was really jealous." They both smiled.

"Hang in there Spain."

"I will, don't worry about me. I think I just need a few days to drown my feelings in ice cream and rum." Italy got up, stretching his arms out.

"Alright. I guess I'll just head back to Germany's. Thank you for the advice."

"It's no problem. Come back anytime you need more advice." France replied.

"Thanks. Well, ciao!"

"Wait! Italy!" Spain called, grabbing the box. "Don't forget-" He was cut off by his own shock when he noticed the box. He'd seen the box before, he knew what it contained.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Thank you. Ciao!" With a wave, Italy left the house and made his way back to Germany's house.

Spain looked over at France,

"Did you give him what I thought you gave him?" France smiled and nodded. Spain shook his head and chuckled.


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm back with a short, but interesting chapter! I was having a hard time with this chapter, but the slump is over! **

**Anyway, chapter 6!**

Italy filled his suitcase, rather sloppily, on top of the bed he and Germany shared. Shirts, pants, and other clothing items were balled up and shoved forcefully into the bag. Germany sat, staring at the nonchalant way Italy was tossing his shoes on top of all of his clothes.

"Don't you think that you should be packing with a little more care? Your clothes will be all wrinkled." The blonde man put in.

"Oh, don't worry! I'll have time to hang and iron everything once I arrive at Romano's." Italy replied, waving a hand over at his partner and not taking an eye off of his bag.

"But you can avoid having to do that if you packed more carefully." He said, getting up to help his boyfriend.

"I'm fine." Italy spun, placing a chaste kiss on the taller mans lips. Germany smiled. "I'm a grown man, I can make decisions for myself, you know."

"Ja, I know." Italy refrained from mentioning sex, remembering his conversation with France two days ago. "So what prompted you to visit your brother again? You said he and Spain had a fight?" He asked, walking back over to his chair and picking up the newspaper once more.

"Si, so I'm going to check on him. I know Romano may seem like he likes his privacy and that he's happy on his own, but I know better."

"Did you call him to tell him that you were coming?"

"I thought about it, but decided to just drop by."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Ludwig, I told you I can handle it. I'll be fine." Italy zipped up his suitcase, triumphantly patting the bag. "There. Alright, I'm going to get going." Italy dropped his bag on the floor with a loud thud. Germany got up, walking over to hug his italian from behind.

"I'm going to miss you." He said, burying his head in the crook of Italy's neck. Italy tilted his head to the side, letting out a moan. It was hard for Italy not to try and drag him onto the bed in what would probably be another futile attempt to bed his boyfriend, but France's advice was echoing in his mind. Besides, he didn't want to push Germany away.

But it was hard, especially when those strong hands were running up and down the sides of his body.

"Germany, I gotta go now if I want to get there for dinner." Italy whirled around, wrapping his arms around Germany's neck, pulling him down to kiss him deeply, yet quickly. He pulled away. "I love you, and I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too. Call me when you get there, okay?"

"Okay."

"Let me get your bag." He said whilst tossing the suitcase over his shoulder and escorting his boyfriend outside.

After they said some long good-byes, Germany waved Italy off from the car. As soon as it was out of sight and far along the road he went back inside. He wanted to do some work, but he knew more than anyone that if Italy was packing, it was very likely that he left a mess in the room before he left.

No surprise, he was right.

Italy's half of the closet was disorganized and cluttered. Clothes were either on the floor with his shoes, or they were falling off the hangers. He sighed heavily. He loved Italy, but that didn't mean that he still didn't do things that bothered him. And his carelessness with his clothes was one of them.

Germany bent down to pick up the clothes. He folded some, hung others and the rest he threw in the hamper, knowing they were dirty.

"Seriously, how does he know what's clean and what isn't?" He mumbled to himself.

Afterwards, he went to put the shoes back on the top shelf. But as he went to go and place the brown Ferragamo shoes on the shelf, it broke, slightly. It fell forwards, allowing several items to fall to the floor. Germany cursed under his breath.

He realised that the Italian kept a lot more up there than shoes. There were old books, magazines, photo albums, and even a box, which Germany picked up. It wasn't anything special, just a lightly colored, wooden box. What struck as odd, though, was the carving on the side that read _Property of France_.

_Why would Italy have a box from France hidden in the closet? _The german knew that it was wrong, that he shouldn't look through it, but the curiosity ate at him. He slid the lid off to look inside, blushing a dark red when he saw what was inside.

"Uh . . ." He croaked out.

"Germany! Germany! It forgot something!" Italy called from the hallway. Snapping from his thoughts, he quickly slammed the box shut and replaced it on the floor, pretending that he hadn't noticed it. Instead, he rummaged through the shoes.

Italy popped through the doors to the closet.

"Oh there you are! What happened?"

"Oh, it's nothing. Your shelf broke and I took to cleaning it up. It's no problem, really. Don't mind me. You said you forgot something?" He sputtered out quickly. It went over Italy's head, who just bent down to pick up the box. Germany's eyes grew wide, but pretended not to notice.

"Si, I forgot this." He patted the side of the box. "Now I really need to go. I'm sorry you have to clean up my mess."

"It's no problem. Just go, you'll miss your flight."

"Right. Ciao, I love you."

"I love you too!" He called, but Italy was already running out of the house and back into the car. He slammed the door shut as the driver headed towards the airport, yet again.

Italy slumped into his seat, relaxing as his hands curled over the box.

"Oh, I haven't even looked what's in this box yet." He said to himself, opening it. The normal smile that was on his face vanished. His eyes grew wide and his mouth agape when he saw the gay porn dvd's within it. "Oh mio Dio. I'm glad Germany didn't see this." He said as a mild blush burned on his face.


End file.
